


As If Being a Hobbit Wasn't Hard Enough

by thatoneginger



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU obviously, Avatar!Bilbo, Bending the elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4209534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoneginger/pseuds/thatoneginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, Bilbo is an Earth-bender. The first one in, like, centuries. And by the way, he's the Avatar. He trains under Gandalf and Elrond, get's emotionally constipated, decides to not be the Avatar. Flash forward fifty years, and Gandalf comes to his gate a second time, and Bilbo is having none of Gandalf's shit.</p>
<p>Or;</p>
<p>That one where Bilbo's destiny is to save Middle-Earth, and he barely knows how to Earth-bend and Water-bend-- let alone bend the other elements. Where Thorin is still a dick (duh), Fíli and Kíli are having a grand ol' time, and Gandalf just wants Bilbo to learn the elements by sending him on an almost-suicidal quest to slay a dragon and take back a mountain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Belladonna Is Hyped

**Author's Note:**

> This has been done before, I'm almost sure, but. I kind of don't care. I've been wanting to do an Avatar!Bilbo for ages, and I'm finally starting to write it down. This is just an introductory chapter. I don't know how long this story will be, but it is summer, so. Hopefully you guys like it, and I churn out chapters like butter. Eventual Bagginshield. Slow burn. Very slow burn. Almost non existent for a bit. Bear with me-- I've got plans for this story, guys.

Bilbo had known he was the Avatar from a very young age. He wasn’t yet in his tweens, even, when he got so cross with Olo Proudfoot he nearly took the poor Hobbit’s head clean off with a well rounded stone.

(That was the day Olo stopped being a right cock to any and all Baggins’, if it wasn’t obvious enough). 

Needless to say that after that, Bilbo certainly worked to keep his temper in check because, contrary to popular belief, and for all his wisdom he acquired over his long life, Bilbo’s temper was something that struck fast. It burned quick, white-hot and bright, not lasting for long but absolutely vicious when it flared. It didn’t burn low and simmer and stew, quite unlike the temper of, say, a Dwarf. Well. A levelheaded Dwarf, anyway, and Bilbo would learn later just how hard those were to come by. 

Anyway, after the Proudfoot incident, as his darling mother called it, Bilbo didn’t quite know what to make of himself. And neither did his father, simple and kind as he was. After all, prior to that, Earth-bending had been thought of as… well, it was extinct. The Hobbits of old were masters in their time, aye— how else would Hobbiton be built? 

Hobbits weren’t always kind and gentle and small. Quite tall, actually. Or, well, tall for a Hobbit. Perhaps the size of a large Dwarf. They were used as pawns of war, for their uncanny ability to be one with the Earth. To be blind, yet with one footfall, know every single living thing that breathed, and walked, and spoke within the closest hundred yards. One can only imagine how this would help in warfare— and it did, immensely— but the Hobbits, even then, wanted nothing to do with it. They were coerced, or Bilbo had been taught by his father. The first chance the Hobbits of old got to escape and make a new life, they took. So, they found what was not yet Hobbiton, and built from there.

After that, well, the power to bend the Earth to one’s will was not needed. With disuse and the older generations dying out, without having taught the young generation how to master the art, Earth-bending simply vanished. Which is why it was such a shock to Belladonna and Bungo Baggins that their sole son had managed to accidentally knock Olo Proudfoot out stone cold with just an angry flick of his wrist. Now, as Bilbo would often say in his later years, his mother should have just let it be, and let him forget he had the ability, but Yavanna above, her son was gifted, and she wanted everyone to know; much to Bungo’s chagrin.

Belladonna wrote to Gandalf not a week later, after she had urged Bilbo to play with his ability and he nearly destroyed Bag-End _and_ Hobbiton. Bungo was not impressed. The why and how Belladonna Baggins, née Took, was friends with such a person— a wizard— does not really matter. All that does matter is that Gandalf saw what potential lay in the form of a rather adventurous eight year old Hobbit, (about five, in man-years), and was set on testing a theory he was already quite sure of. 

“Mister Gandalf?” 

“Yes, dear Bilbo?” 

“Why are we going to the river?” 

“Because I wish to see if you can move water as you do the rocks.” 

“Oh. That sounds fun. Da doesn’t like me going to the river.” 

“He and your mother both have given me permission. It’s alright. It will only take a moment, anyway.” 

Silence. 

“Mister Gandalf?” 

“Yes, dear Bilbo?” 

“Do you think I can move the water, too?” 

“… Yes. Yes I do.” 

“If I can, what does that mean?” 

“It will mean that you are a very special Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. It will mean that you are the Avatar.” 


	2. In Which Bilbo Makes a Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sprinkle of Dwarves. A fucking lot of Gandalf. Bilbo being unsure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you guys seem to like it, which is good. Here's the first full chapter to kick us off. Also, it came to my attention I had been too lax with the tags, and after it was brought to my attention, I fixed it. Sorry about that. Hope you guys like this chapter.

\--

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, Bella?”

“Of course we are, darling. Bilbo is meant for so much more than… this.”

“This?”

“Oh, you know what I mean. He loves the Shire— just as I do, too— and he loves gardening and he loves you and me. But… he never has gotten on well with the others. You know that as well as I, Bungo.”

“… Yes, I know. I had only hoped he’d grow out of it. He’s not even in his tweens yet, for Yavanna’s sake. We could at least give him some time to..”  


“To what? Realize he's even more different from every other Hobbit than he already thought he was? Hole himself up at Bag-End because we’re the only ones that understand him? And after we’re gone, Bungo, what would he do then? His only friend, a wandering Wizard. Oh, yes, the Hobbits would eat that right up. I don’t think my heart could take it, my love.”

“You’re reading much too far into the future, dear one. You don’t know those things will happen. For all we know, Bilbo will grow up just fine and find a lovely lass—“

“Or lad.”

“Belladonna Baggins, now is not the time for that.”

“… You’re right. I’m sorry. I only want him to be happy. I only want what’s best for him. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do, dear. It’s only… well, Rivendell is such a long ways off. I do not know this Lord Elrond that you and Gandalf speak so highly of. I do not know if sending him off so young is wise. I have many doubts, is all.”

“I understand. I promise you that I do, because even I am scared. I’m scared something will happen on the way there, I’m scared that Bilbo will not take to the other elements as easy as he's done Earth. I’m scared he’ll come home and never want to walk outside again. But.. even then, Bungo, I’m more scared of him succeeding.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, Gandalf did speak of a prophecy. One that the lady Galadriel had shared with him, many moons ago. He told us about it, you remember.”

“Yes, I do. But surely, Bilbo can not be… Gandalf spoke of fire, and war, and famine and death— this is something that can not be in our child’s future, Bella. He is only a Hobbit. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“He is the Avatar, Bungo. He is so much more than we ever thought he’d be. Even still, the foretelling is something we must keep in mind. The Lady has never lead me or Gandalf astray before, and she isn’t liable to start now. You must trust me with this. Lord Elrond is wise and kind and a friend to the Took’s, and by extension, Baggins’. I trust him with my life, my darling.”

“… It seems that you sway me in your favor, love. Though, I suppose that after all this time, I would’ve expected it.”  


“If it helps, you put up more of a fight than usual.”

“I suppose. If you trust this Elf with your very life, I can only hope we can entrust him with Bilbo’s.”

“Gandalf would be there, too. He would never let Bilbo lead himself into danger. He is very fond of our son, you know. He will protect him. Besides, Rivendell is just about as peaceful as the Shire. Honestly, nothing happens there. The Rivendell Elves are a bit like Hobbits, honestly. It is the Mirkwood Elves that lead a more dangerous life; but Bilbo will be nowhere near them. I think they reside somewhere near the Lonely Mountain. I would have to consult a map.”

“Alright, alright. I’m convinced. When will they leave?”

“Within the week, so I should suspect. We can ask Gandalf in the morning.”

“I will do just that. Until then, I suggest we both try to get some sleep. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of sleepless nights once Bilbo is gone.”  


“Oh, Bungo, you naughty thing.”

“Yavanna, Bella, not like— just go to sleep, please.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

—  
Bilbo was thirty-six, (early twenties in man-years), when Bungo died. 

He didn’t much care to continue with Elrond and Gandalf’s lessons after that, as he had visited home and wished to stay there for his mother— but at her insistence, he reluctantly traveled back to Rivendell and continued training, though his enthusiasm has dampened quite a bit.

—  
Bilbo was forty-four, (mid twenties in man-years), when Belladonna died.

That is what broke him. With Bella’s passing, in no way was Bilbo staying in Rivendell to further his training. He had to arrange for the funeral, and then take Bag-End before Lobelia got her grubby little mitts all over it. Besides, he simply did not have the will to master Water-bending.

For a long time after he’d come back home and made a life for himself, he was bitter. He felt his childhood taken from him. Felt that time with Elrond and Gandalf and the Elves of Rivendell should’ve been time spent with his parents. He did not write any of his friends in Rivendell, or attempt to keep in contact with Gandalf.

Of course, as time passed, and the young Hobbit overcame his grief, he felt quite foolish over it all. He wasn’t acting like a proper Hobbit to his friends at all— oh, what would his mother think of him? No, it simply would not do.

—  
Bilbo and Elrond kept in correspondence as often as they could.

—  
Gandalf never visited. Bilbo didn’t want him to.

—  
Turns out Bilbo’s luck ran out one summer day when a robe-clad Wizard ruined his smoke ring and bothered him with nonsense about adventures.

—  
Confound and confiscate that thrice-dammed wizard! 

“If you would please— no, no, do not throw that about, master Dwarf!”

“That is not— that is my mother’s glory-box!”

“That is a doily, master Dwarf, not a washcloth.”

“Oh, my plates!”

“Oh, Yavanna above, my _plumbing_.”

“I’m going to kill Gandalf.” (This was muttered, of course).

—  
From the moment he set his eyes on Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo knew he was in trouble. Those blue eyes, that hair, those muscles, that voice. Oh, when he sang. Bilbo had never wanted to help somebody more than he did Thorin Oakenshield. He wanted to do other things, too, of course, but his personality clashed with his handsome looks.

Thorin was cold, distant. Condescending was a word that fit well. However gorgeous he was, Bilbo had a hard time liking this blasted Dwarf. He had a hard time liking any of them; barging into his home, eating his pantry completely empty, trailing mud and filth all over the house. Belladonna would have a raging fit.

Or maybe not. Knowing his mother, she would’ve loved the Dwarvish company. She was a Took, after all.

—  
“ _Incineration_?”

“Oh, aye. He’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.”

—  
Bilbo was in the kitchen when Gandalf found him. He was attempting to clean while the Dwarves were in the den. Steeled his nerves a bit, too. Calmed him.

“You are not the Bilbo I used to know.” The Hobbit in question snorted at this.

“Of course I’m not. I’m, for once, a respectable Hobbit. I’m older, too.”

“Oh, you are only in your fifties. Thats quite young for a Hobbit. Why, for all intents and purposes, my boy, you have only just recently come to age, have you not?” Gandalf looked at Bilbo knowingly, and Bilbo furrowed his brow and frowned, scrubbing furiously at the plate in his hands, unwilling to look at the Wizard.

“Yes, I have, and you want me running off on some suicidal mission to take back a mountain from a bloody dragon. What if I want to stay here and find a nice wife and settle down?” He challenged, and Gandalf raised a brow.

“We both know that it’s not a wife you wish to marry.” Bilbo colored at this, tips of his pointed ears burning.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can go marry another male Hobbit. Besides, I don’t want to be alone the rest of my life, Gandalf. I don’t want to get incinerated by Smaug the Terrible, either.” The Hobbit snorted, setting the plate in his little rack to dry and starting on one of the mugs his Dwarven company used for ale.

“Mhm. I understand your plight. And yet, you are the Avatar—“

“Hush!” The Hobbit hissed, finally looking Gandalf’s way. 

“I am not _anything_ , Gandalf. I am a Hobbit. A Baggins of Bag-End,—“

“And also a Took and the Avatar. You must accept this. You alone are the one that can help these Dwarrow take back their home and restore the balance. Erebor was the last great Dwarven kingdom of Middle-Earth, as I know that you know, and with it’s fall, the surrounding area has fallen to ruin and chaos.” Bilbo was silent, simply letting his hands sit in the frothy water and grinding his teeth together, staring into the water as though it held all the answers.

“There is an evil, Bilbo Baggins. Trolls come further and further into provinces of small towns and farms. Orcs are gathering, banding together. For what purpose, I very much would like to know. Giant spiders rule the forests, now, and with each passing day it gets worse and worse. Bilbo Baggins, Middle-Earth needs the Avatar.” Gandalf placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, and the Hobbit swallowed thickly.

“I would be no use, Gandalf. You know this. I never finished training with Elrond. Earth is the only thing I know, and even then, it is something I do not know well. I have not used it in years. I couldn’t forget it if I tried, but I’d be more of a burden with it than anything, I’m so out of practice. Gods, the only thing I can use Water-bending for is watering my vegetable garden.” He snorted, shaking his head. 

“The Dwarves of old that were masters at Fire-bending have long since passed, as have the Rangers with their Air-bending. I have nobody to help me master any element, save for Elrond— but even then, the Dwarves would not stay in Rivendell long enough for me to learn anything useful, if mother’s lessons of Dwarven animosity towards Elven folk are to be believed.” Gandalf nodded wisely at this.

“Though most of what you say is true, I still have faith in you, Bilbo Baggins. You are an extraordinary Hobbit, you know. With the right state of mind, I’m sure you could teach yourself. Mastering Water and Earth, anyway. Air and Fire would be hard, I will admit. But there are scrolls, ancient texts. Erebor is in possession of many fire scrolls, if Smaug hasn’t burned them. As for air, you are quite on your own. I would not know where to find such a scroll, though I do know they exist.” Bilbo looked thoughtful on this.

“Gandalf?”

“Yes, dear Bilbo?”

“If I were to go on this adventure, could you promise I would come back?”

“… No. And if you did, you would not be the same.”

—  
The next morning, Bilbo woke. He made breakfast. Tended to his garden. Made second breakfast. Looked at the clock. Looked at the portrait of his mother and father. Prayed that his mother give him strength, and his father forgive him. Packed a bag, signed a contract, and flew out of Bag-End.


	3. In Which Bilbo Hates His Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond is introduced in this chapter.  
> Yay, Rivendell!  
> Also some Water-Bending.

He was so hungry. And cold. And wet. And plain bloody _miserable_. He’d only had two meals today, small ones, and it was dinner time. _Two_ meals. The entire day. What’s even worse, it had been raining for days— it only just stopped an hour or so ago. This was one hell of a bad idea. Oh, why didn’t he just stay home?

“Keep up, Halfling. We will not wait should you fall behind.” Came the bark of the leader of the company, and Bilbo barely resisted the urge to spit in irritation.

“I will _not_ fall behind, thank you kindly, Master Dwarf. I am quite capable of playing follow the leader on horseback, you know.” Those two mischief makers— Fíli and Kíli, wasn’t it?— snickered at that, but shut up as soon as they caught Thorin’s glare. Bilbo felt a small swell of pride for his quick tongue.

“I would not worry about him, laddie.” There was a Dwarf riding beside him, now. Balin, his name was, Bilbo mused.

“He’ll stop being so hostile to you eventually, I’m sure.” Bilbo pursed his lips at this.

“Why is he so hostile to begin with, if you don’t mind me asking? I mean— well, besides the dragon stealing your home bit. I suppose that would make anybody rightly cross for a good long while.” Balin gave a light chuckle.

“Aye, aye.” Balin looked towards Thorin, then to Bilbo, then back to the front so he could properly steer his pony.

“I suspect a large reason is because you are not a Dwarf. Specifically, a Dwarf of Erebor, like all of us here. Not that he has anything against Hobbits. It’s only that… well, you were not there when Smaug attacked— I doubt you were born yet, even. You did not see the fire and blood and death. You have never had a days worth of combat, and you do not know true tragedy. You are small, and soft, and round. Thorin, and Dwalin, too, most likely, think you will abandon us the moment the winds do not turn in our favor.” Bilbo was silent at this. It made total sense, and he couldn’t fault Thorin and his company for feeling that way. Still stung, though, however true the words.

“Well, I’ll just have to prove his Highness wrong, now, won’t I?”

—

It was when he was forced into sneaking around bloody _trolls_ that Bilbo realized he may be in a tad bit over his head with this whole ‘buglaring’ business that Gandalf was so sure he was cut out for. Those three meatheaded beasts had half the ponies, Myrtle included, and intended to cook them, much to Bilbo’s despair. And now, after a few whispers of encouragement and a small shove, Bilbo was alone next to a troll camp, hiding in bushes, and Fíli and Kíli had run off to… well, do whatever it was those two intended to do. Hopefully, help.

He had no clue what to do. Honestly, he hid in the bushes far longer than he’d ever admit, debating his best course of action, but that’s neither here nor there. He had no weapons. Those trolls would kill him in half a second if he was noticed. Right. Okay. He took a deep breath before lightly sneaking around the camp, keeping low in the bushes and silent as he made his way to where the ponies were being kept. They were distressed and started to make noise when he approached them, but it only took a few whispered ‘shh’s and pats on the nose to get them tame once more.

Bilbo chewed on his lip, eyes darting around before being struck with idea that he wasn’t sure would work, but was worth the effort. Opening the water skin he kept round his slightly slimmer waist, the Hobbit drew a shaky stream, and then proceeded to drop it. Damnit, he had never had to do this under life or death pressure. It took two more tries before he finally held a stream proper, and with a wavering breath, Bilbo drew on all his lessons with Elrond, attempting to remember as much as he could and searching for one particular lesson. When he found it, he swallowed, and planted his feet firmly in the soil below him. With one quick movement coupled with the _hiss!_ and the _snap!_ of rope being cut through, Bilbo dropped the water stream with trembling hands and the ponies were free— but not before an outraged cry was heard and Bilbo was grabbed around the waist and hoisted up into the air.

—

”A burglar-‘Obbit?”

—

“Drop him!”

—

“U-Uh, t-they’ve got… they’ve got worms!”

—

”The dawn take you all!”

—

Bilbo had never been so terrified. Yavanna above, didn’t he tell Gandalf this was a bad idea? He got them all captured, first of all, and couldn’t even bend them out of the trouble, having to resort to his Hobbit wits, which, according to Gandalf, were quite clever. Of course, according to Thorin, Bilbo was what got them into trouble, so the integrity of said wits didn’t much matter. Bilbo silently agreed— though he did feel some pride at managing to free the ponies. That was a good thing, at least, no matter what Thorin thought.

—

Rivendell was a blessing. An absolute blessing. With good food, and plenty of it, warm beds, and kind company, Bilbo was quite sure he could stay there forever. If he wasn’t on this quest, and if he didn’t already have Bag-End, anyway. Elrond welcomed him back with open arms, as did his old friends, and Bilbo was nearly brought to tears by it all. He really didn’t realize just how much he had missed them.

”You have been quiet, friend. What troubles you so?” Elrond spoke this to him, when Bilbo was sitting on a bench outside on their first night. Friendly as he’d been, Elrond had noticed his somewhat dour disposition. As keen as the Elf was, Bilbo was not surprised, and he did not intend to lie. 

”It is this quest. It was a mistake, Elrond. I should be home, in Bag-End. I should be tending to mother’s garden, smoking Old Toby with Hamfast Gamgee. I’m really quite useless. I can’t fight with sword, shield, I’m not a burglar. I can’t even bend properly. None of those Dwarves trust me, and they all want me gone. I’m a burden to them.” Bilbo ran a hand through his curls, which have gotten longer, and Elrond took a graceful seat beside him.

”May I offer my thoughts, _mellon_?” Bilbo smiled at the Sindarin endearment. It was one he had not heard in years.

”Oh, Yavanna, please do. I would be beyond grateful.” There was a smile tugging at the Elf Lord’s lips.

”I was surprised when I saw you in such company, Bilbo. But at the same time, I was proud, because you had made it this far. It had not been easy for you since Bella’s passing, and for that, I offer you my unending condolences. She was a great friend to me, and I miss her every day.” They both were silent for a moment.

”For the longest time after Belladonna, I was quite sure we would never meet again. And yet, you come to me today, covered head to toe in dirt and filth, a scabbard at your back and trailing behind a band of Dwarves, no less, headed by Thorin Oakenshield himself. I will admit that today was the first I had heard of the Lady Galadriel’s premonition, and I was unaware that Gandalf had decided to lead the Dwarves of Erebor back home. I was even less aware of his desire to take you along, as well, though I am glad he did.”

”Oh? Why is that?”

”Because you were wasting away. It is unquestionable that you love the Shire, this much is true, but all the same, the quiet Shire-life was never something you were destined for. We both know this.” Bilbo took a deep breath and sighed.

”Yeah, okay, fine. I get that. I do. I understand. But how in Middle-Earth am I going to be worth _anything_? I-I’m exhausted, I’m hungry, I’m cold all the time, I smell, I’m weak, Elrond. I’m a hindrance, not a help. I have not been proficient in combat since the days of my youth spent here; and that was so very long ago.” Bilbo put his head in his hands.

”What am I going to do, Elrond? I can’t go back out there, in the wild, with them. I _can’t_.” This was a whisper, and the Elf Lord looked on at his friend with sadness before making a decision.

”It is settled, then.” His voice bode no argument.

”What is?”

Elrond took a moment to answer, and stood up, looking very much the lord he was, Bilbo looking up at him curiously.

”Tonight, you will sleep. Tomorrow, before the sun has risen, we start our training.”

—

”You must remember that water is not the Earth, _mellon_. It is not solid. It is free, quick to strike, easy to manipulate; unlike the Earth. Do not feel it with your feet— yes you are, stop glaring— feel it in your fingers. In your hands, in your very blood. There is water in everything. In rivers and streams and lakes, yes, but also in your opponents sweat, and his blood. In flowers, in the very _air_. You must stop rooting yourself to the ground. It is a tell that you are an Earth-bender first and foremost, and makes you unable to strike with the precision you need to master the art. Now then, the whips, again!”

Bilbo struck, again and again, his somewhat short arms encased in long vines of water, the Hobbit using them as their namesake— water whips. His chest was heaving, and sweat dripped into his eyes and beaded down his naked chest and onto his pants, but he paid it no mind. He felt more like himself than he had in years.

—

”Half-“ Thorin stopped mid word. The Hobbit had been missing from breakfast and lunch, as had the Elf lord, which Thorin thought strikingly odd, considering how much of the Hobbit had been dedicated to simply eating since they arrived. He hadn’t really been going out of his way to look for Bilbo, but by sheer happenstance, the Dwarf stumbled upon the burglar and the Elf. Needless to say, he had been unexpected to see the soft Hobbit in combat. He looked like he’d been at it all day, by his heaving breaths and quivering limbs. (The obvious Water-Bending was a surprise, too. It was his understanding that was only an ability to Elves such as Elrond, or that vile King Thranduil of Mirkwood).

”T-Thorin!” The water hit the ground with a splash, and the Hobbit looked rather flustered.

”How are you a Water-Bender? You’re kind is as unable to do that as I— yet what I just saw was not a trick of my eyes. If anything, you would be a master of Earth, if the lineage of your race is anything to go by.” Bilbo opened and closed his mouth a few times, deciding on what to say. It’s not as though he and Gandalf meant to lie to the Dwarves about him being the Avatar, Bilbo just… well, he thought it best they didn’t know unless they had to. It wasn’t as though he was good enough to fight with it. Gandalf agreed. 

”He is the Avatar. I was his tutor many years ago, and continue to be to this day.” Came Elrond’s simple answer, and after a nod of confirmation from the Hobbit, Thorin folded his arms over his chest.

”I see. In that case, come along, Halfling. We must speak.”

”But—“

”You have no had anything to eat all day. I am surprised you haven’t dropped dead by how much you claim Hobbits need to eat. Now come along. We shall have an early supper, and you will explain all that you and the Wizard have hid from me.” Well. That was kind of almost sweet, in a very Dwarvish way, Bilbo thought. He looked to Elrond, and the Elf nodded.

“He is right, _mellon_. I have kept you far too long. I apologize. Please, go eat your fill. We can continue later.”

” _Halfling_.” Thrice damn him, that Dwarf was impatient.

”Yes, Thorin, fine, okay. Yavanna above. Look, just… let me go wash up some, and I’ll meet you in the dining hall, alright? I won’t be long— promise.” Bilbo gave a small smile then, and Thorin only humphed his okay before leaving, and the tired Hobbit breathed a sigh and rolled his eyes, giving a quick goodbye to Elrond and jogging to go clean himself up. Thorin was already aggravated, it wouldn’t due to keep him waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Mellon_ : Sindarin Elvish for 'friend'. Common term of endearment.


	4. In Which Thorin and Bilbo Have a Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo talk, things are said, things are understood.

”The Avatar, then?” Bilbo swallowed thickly and nodded, busying himself with filling his mouth full with the fruit and greens in front of him. One part of him did it out of sheer nervousness of how Thorin would take this, and the other half did it because he really was starving. He didn’t realize just how long it’d been since he ate; not until he stopped training for more than a moment. The burglar chased the food down with a sip of sweet wine, and finally turned his full attention to the royal Dwarf. He owed him that much, anyway, after his indirect lie.

”I know, I know. It’s… well. I’m certainly not who you’d expect to be the ‘master of all four elements’.” The Shireling snorted softly, shaking his head. He sighed, and his shoulders sagged.

”Thorin, I’m sorry. For not telling you. I just… you saw, right? You saw me training with Elrond just then— I’m not spectacular or a master of all the elements. I’m not even a master of the Earth element, and that’s the element of my people. Let alone water, fire and air. I wouldn’t have been able to do any good with the little that I knew and know—“

”Did you use any bending while on the quest thus far?” Thorin interrupted him in that smoky voice, and Bilbo’s jaw clamped shut before he nodded.

”And what is it that you used it for?”

"Well, it was the night that I got the lot of us nearly turned into Dwarf stew, with a side of Hobbit, curtesy of those dimwit trolls.” Bilbo tried to lighten the mood a bit with a small chuckle. Thorin didn’t laugh, Bilbo didn’t figure he would, but the Dwarf did cock an eyebrow and tilt his head to the side a bit, as if to say _go on_. That was something, anyway. Better than the hostility he’d been expecting. Come to think of it, Thorin had been amazingly civil through all of this. It was worrisome.

”It was before the company was involved. Fíli and Kíli had run off already, leaving me alone to figure out how to get the ponies free without the trolls noticing. As you now know, only half of my plan was successful.” Bilbo took a thoughtful sip of wine and swallowed before continuing.

”I snuck up to the pen where the ponies were being held, and after quite a bit of internal debate, I decided to try to use Water-bending to cut the rope and set them free. Sort of like what you saw me practicing with Elrond, but much more contained and small. I only used a little water, but I was shaking so bad I dropped the bloody stream twice.” He laughed softly at the memory now. Gods, was that only a week or so ago? It already felt like a lifetime.

”Anyway, when I finally got a steady hold, I used a smaller version of that water whip and cut the rope, and the ponies ran free. I, then, got captured, of course. Still sorry about that.” Bilbo finished, and Thorin made a small ‘hm’ sound from the back of his throat.

”So, you’re telling me that you used your bending to free our mounts?”

”I suppose. Though it was far from graceful.”

”Then the bending is helpful.” Bilbo opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Thorin had him explain all that, just to make a point? The little Hobbit couldn’t help it: he smiled. It _did_ make him feel quite good, having Thorin’s approval.

”When you put it that way, Thorin, yeah. I guess.” He laughed a bit, a bit of tension leaving his small frame. This was nice. He hated to ruin it, but he simply had to ask.

”Thorin, not that I’m not grateful, or don’t appreciate this— because I very much do— I’m just… well, up to now, you’ve been a bit distant and… cold towards me. A-And I understand, I do, I mean I am only a Hobbit and I do not feel the way you do for your mountain, and your feelings towards me are valid, but I am only curious what’s caused you to be so wonderful to me all of the sudden.” He realized he may have rambled a bit, nerves getting the better of him. He hoped Thorin didn’t resent him too much for it.

”’Wonderful’?” He sounded genuinely surprised, and Bilbo nodded.

”Yeah. You’re not really relaxed, but this is the most lax I’ve ever seen you, and you found me and invited me to dinner, and you haven’t stopped looking at me the entire time, and you almost look… happy. I don’t think I’ve seen you look happy the entire quest so far.” Thorin blinked rapidly for only a few moments, then he licked his teeth, and he focused his gaze on the fruit bowl in the center of the wooden table. He stubbornly crossed his arms and sat up a bit straighter, and when he spoke his voice was harsher than it needed to be, in Bilbo’s opinion.

”How do you intend on learning and mastering the elements, Halfling?”

 _Oh_. So that’s how it was going to be.

”Okay, you know what? Nope. We’re going to stop with this ‘Halfling’ business, do you understand?” He said firmly, his own short arms crossed now and jaw firmly set, brows furrowed.

”I am not _half_ of anything. You want to call me by my race? Fine. Call me ‘Hobbit’, and I’ll start calling you ‘Dwarf’, which is something I’m told you quite resent, O King Under a Giant Rock.” Bilbo huffed.

”For Yavanna’s sake, I’m going on this quest with you— trudging through mud and rain and going on no food every damn day, the least you could do is learn my name. It isn’t even that hard— much simpler than having to learn thirteen Dwarven names, thank you very much!” He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and took an angry bite, while Thorin kept his face stoic.

”Look, I know you don’t want me here, okay? None of you do. I’m not an imbecile— I can see that much.” His irritability had started to fizzle away at this point.

”But regardless of that, I _am_ here. I am here, and I’m going to fight for the home that you lost. I can’t do much right now, but I promise that I’m doing the best I can. I’m not a warrior like Dwalin, I’m not a king like you. I’m not even a scholar like Ori. I’m a Hobbit and I’m small and not as strong as all of you, but I’m working on it. By the time we reach Erebor, I’ll be just as tough as all you damn Dwarves put together, just wait and see.” He was rambling again, and didn’t care.

“So if you could just start calling me by my bloody name, that’d be great. Just in case you don’t know it, it’s Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins.” He nodded, turned back to his food, and continued eating. He didn’t look up— not even when Thorin left.

—

Following his supper and impromptu rant to Thorin, Bilbo went back to the small courtyard he and Elrond had been training in previously and started to work on his own. He focused on his Earth-bending, knowing that would be his strongest and easiest form, and it’d be best that he taught himself as much as he could before he ran out of daylight. Although, it was as night fell that Bilbo discovered he didn’t need sunlight. He could see through the earth. He certainly didn’t mean to find this out; he was only throwing rocks around when with one foot stomp to the ground, he could see _everything_. At least up to where the marble of the palace started, anyway. It was so amazing— closing his eyes and stomping again, he could pinpoint Elvenfolk walking yards away. Some Dwarves were bathing in one of the pools below; oh, if only he'd known how to do this earlier, maybe they could’ve avoided the trolls! Then again, he wouldn’t have his ‘letter opener’, and Thorin wouldn’t have Orcrist.

 _Thorin_.

Just the thought of that thrice damned king made him sigh heavily, and kick another boulder into the wall with perhaps a bit too much force.

”It is late. Why are you not in bed?” Well. What do you know? Thorin must’ve come from the palace; he didn’t feel him approach.

”I could ask you the same.” Bilbo countered, focusing on his mark that Elrond had marked on the wall, and threw a few well aimed rocks with close fisted jabs of his arms.

”I was thinking.” Thorin answered. He was walking into the courtyard, now.

”And I am training. I don’t know when the next time I’ll be able to do this safely is; with us being hunted by Orcs and all.” A few more punches, a few more hits.

”You’ll have all day tomorrow to train. Go get some sleep.” Bilbo opened his mouth to replay, possibly sarcastically, as he was prone to do without thinking, but he stopped and his brow furrowed in confusion, finally turning to look at his visitor.

”Thorin, we’re leaving tomorrow. You don’t want to stay here longer than you have to, remember?” The hobbit raised a brow and, he could almost _swear_ that Thorin took on a look of sheepishness. But that had to be wrong— a trick of the shadows. Right?

”I have decided that it is in the company’s best interest if we were to remain here for the next three days.” _Three days_? Okay, Thorin had to have gone completely mad. Bilbo could feel his eyes almost bug out of his head.

”A-Are you serious? But Durin’s Day! Gods, we don’t have the time. Why—“

”The more you learn from the elf, the more helpful you will be. You are not much now, but you will learn. And… as loathe as I am to admit it, Elrond is the only one who can teach you right now.” Bilbo was _speechless_. He could only stare at Thorin before it hit him:

_Thorin is doing this for me. He wants me to learn Water-bending. Oh, Yavanna above, three days isn’t much, but it’s more than I every dreamed of asking from him, so I promise to learn everything that Lord Elrond is willing to teach._

”T-Thorin, I don’t know what to say. How to thank you. I can’t imagine how it must’ve been for you to go to Elrond, but thank you. I’m lucky to have a friend like you.” Thorin didn’t speak for a while after that, but when he did, it was softer and kinder than he’d ever heard it before.

”Go to bed, Bilbo. You’re exhausted.”


	5. In Which They Come to an Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo have a talk, the company begin their trek across the Misty Mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College is... college.  
> RIP me  
> Kind of dialogue heavy, hope ya'll don't mind.

The next three days were perhaps three of the most intense and physically taxing of Bilbo’s life. Each day he woke up sorer than the next (if he went to sleep that night, as it were), and he contemplated throwing in the towel more than once. Of course, Elrond was quite adept at talking him down from the metaphorical ledge, and even if that didn’t initially help— Thorin’s apparent newfound confidence in Bilbo’s small frame would bring the Hobbit back from the darker corners of his mind.

Bilbo learned more in those seventy-two hours than he had in all the years he spent in Rivendell, honestly. He learned faster, and mastered in a way that looked, but most certainly didn’t feel, effortlessly. Perhaps due to the quite alarming life or death situations that his bending could help or prevent, so Bilbo would tell himself, that had not been there when he was but a Fauntling. Apart from the bending, the company had also gained some insight on the quest.

Before they had all departed from the Baggins’ wrecked smial that fateful morning, Thorin had shown a map. It had depictions of the Lonely Mountain and the surrounding area, and curious characters in the bottom corner that neither the Dwarrow, Bilbo, or even Gandalf could decipher. Quite frankly, after the narrow escape from the Orc pack earlier, after they’d had time to settle and Thorin and Bilbo come to a fragile understanding, the Hobbit could easily discover that Gandalf’s insistence of the path they took was purposeful, though perhaps the Orc pack was not, due to those characters.

To put it simply, Elrond was not one of the most powerful and wisest Elves for no reason. He was a master of linguistics, along with water, and could read, write, and speak many languages now known as dead to the other races. What was on the bottom of the worn parchment was apparently one of these languages, and Gandalf knew that. And thus, in a rather roundabout way due to Dwarf-Elf sensibilities and unforeseen Orc attacks, they had arrived at Rivendell, wether their rather brutish leader had wanted it or not. Turned out for the better, though,Bilbo liked to think. He and Thorin had a friendship, however new and thin, and the rest of the company seemed to see their Burglar in a new light after the trolls, and especially after they had all discovered he was the Avatar.

Bilbo cringed from where he was slashing at targets with jabs of water in one of Elrond’s more less-traveled courtyards, and it made him miss. The blade-like water spashed to the ground beside his dummy, and the Hobbit scowled and huffed, before trying again.

Avatar Bilbo. That still sounded so _wrong_. He hated the weight of it on his tongue, body and soul— especially now with how much it truly meant, how much these Dwarrow expected him to be the grand Avatars of old.

In theory, Bilbo’s attributes were derived from the very creator them-self. Eru, the one whom men worship was given the first title as Avatar, most notably when Melkor was struck down by that very power. Yavanna, also, Goddess to the Hobbits, was Avatar. Bilbo often attempted to find her wisdom and courage in the Earth he moved and Water he commanded. He was not a very devout Hobbit, it is true, he never had been, nor had his mother. Though they both had believed in Yavanna, that she had been real, they didn’t pay the deity much thought or mind. After Bella’s death, especially, Bilbo didn’t think much on her.

Now, however, he found his thoughts to the Ainur Goddess more often than he cared to admit. He needed _something_ to believe in, he supposed, dealing with these crazy Dwarrow and this absurd quest. After so many near-death experiences in this short time on this adventure, one was bound to develop some sort of religion. He vaguely wondered how devout the Dwarrow were. If he wasn’t mistaken, culture dictates they worship Mahal, or Aulë. It was’t uncommon to hear them curse by the name, or say it in an exclamation of happiness, as Kíli was usually heard doing. Thorin was prone to muttering it, Bilbo had noticed, under his breath. Usually in response his nephews shenanigans, or Bilbo’s apparent ineptitude at the quest thus far.

The thought made the Earth-bender purse his lips, and his rhythm he’d created was disrupted by him missing the target again. He cursed. Picking up the stream with relative ease, though every muscle in his body protested, he began again.

Thorin Oakenshield. Thorin, Thorin. Surely he was not as disgruntled and pissed as he put on to be all of the time. Though, as of yet, he’d not seen the usually stoic Dwarf prince smile. Or do much of anything, really, besides scowl, swear at nothing, or swear at Bilbo. Rather disheartening. Although, Bilbo surmised, having your father and grandfather go mad, your entire homeland ripped away by fire and death on wings, more than half your population massacred, then have that same mad father go missing, and that same mad grandfather get decapitated by an Orc when trying to reclaim land would do that to a person. And to think, used to be that Bilbo’s biggest worry would be if his roses would bloom that year.

He shivered, his stream wavered, and he missed.

”Confound it all!” Bilbo put his hands on his hips and stomped childishly, barely catching breath from the exertion.

”Master Baggins, if I may be so bold,” came a smooth voice, and the Hobbit turned to see the personification of his previous thoughts stepping down a set of marble stairs that lead towards the center of Elrond’s grand home. He was carrying a plate, Bilbo did not fail to notice.

”perhaps the reason you are not achieving the results you wish is because it is very nearly sundown, and you haven't taken a break since before lunchtime this morning.” Thorin guessed evenly, his strides taking him in front of the sweating and shirtless Bender. The hands that had been on Bilbo’s hips came forward to accept the rather large plate of food presented to him, and he couldn't help the loud rumble his stomach let out.

”It has also been brought to my attention by our rather gracious host,” Bilbo snorted at that—if Thorin had said ‘gracious’ anymore sarcastically, Elrond might’ve materialized out of thin air and slapped the prince. “that Hobbits must eat seven meals a day. Is this true?” Bilbo blinked a few times, before he gained his voice back. 

“Well, we don't _have_ to. I’ve been eating the same rations everybody else has, and I’m still kicking. We’re only used to that many. I.. well, I suppose if gone on too long, a Hobbit could get malnourished, but that isn’t a terribly big deal. I’m quite alright with making due.” Thorin looked displeased at this, a crease between his eyebrows while he frowned.

”Nonsense. I have been starving you, Master Burglar, and that can not stand. I can’t believe it is only now I have noticed the drop in your weight, and its only been a little over a month that we’ve been traveling. It may not be able to be helped very much whilst on the road, but here, at least, you are able to eat as much as you need, and you haven’t been. I understand your desire to be fighting ready, but you mustn’t neglect your health.” Bilbo raised a brow and quirked a smile.

”You say that as if you can take care of yourself, Thorin. It’s true I’m out here most of the night, but because of that, I can see the windows to all the company’s rooms—yours included. I don’t think staying up all night staring at that piece of parchment, or pacing relentlessly, is very healthy.” Thorin’s frown deepened.

”I’m the leader of this company, Master Baggins, and—“

”Yavanna above, how often must I tell you to just call me by my name? Besides, even leaders need to sleep. And eat, too. Come on, have a sit and help me eat all of this.” As he spoke, Bilbo moved to a rather beautiful wooden bench that sat prettily under the shade of an oak tree a a few meters away. Thorin opened his mouth to speak again, but after a few beats of Bilbo’s almost silent footfalls and the whistling in the trees, he decided to just close it and follow the Hobbit.

”Thank you for bringing this, by the way. Very thoughtful, and I appreciate it more that I can say.” Bilbo’s smile was bright, and Thorin thought that for all their differences, he and the Hobbit really could be friends, in the end. He sat next to the Avatar on the bench, plate of food between them. As Bilbo began to eat, Thorin spoke.

”You are most welcome. When I realized you had not taken a break since the morning, I felt it necessary to bring you something, to at least try and remedy my crime of starving you. I am glad you are pleased.” Bilbo swallowed a mouthful of pear and grinned, reaching over to lightly bump his shoulder with Thorin’s, short legs dangling carelessly off the bench.

”Don’t sound so dour and professional all the time, Thorin. You’re amongst good people, good friends, here. Danger will be at our tails the moment those grand gates are to our backs, but for now, at least, there’s no reason to be so glum. You’d make a right awful Hobbit, with that business.” He tried to joke happily, now determined to see at least one smile on the Dwarf’s handsome face. Instead, Thorin’s look only darkened.

”This is a real, life or death quest to reclaim the Mountain lost, and to avenge my people slaughtered by that thrice-accursed serpent, Halfling, not a picnic in your silly little garden. I would expect you to treat it as such.” That made Bilbo sigh though his nose.

”I’m not—that is to say, I don't mock this quest, Thorin, or question it’s integrity.” He attempted to pacify after a stretch of silence of him finishing the pear, and tossing the core away.

”I only mean that I hope for you to find a bit of joy in something. To see the world a bit like your nephews do. It is not well to frown so much. You’ll get stuck that way, then you won’t be able to smile even if you want to.” He nodded seriously, and Thorin’s lip curled.

”Fíli and Kíli are ignorant; naive to the brutality and terror of this world. They were raised under the shadows of the Blue Mountains. They know nothing of the world. Fíli, at least, is beginning to understand. If Kíli doesn't start seeing things the same, however, I fear for his life. It will be the price he pays for joy, if he is not careful.” Thorin’s voice lost some of the bite it’d had at the start, and the darkness over Thorin that Bilbo once mistook for anger, he realized was sadness. He hummed and nodded, plucking a nut from the plate and munching.

”I suppose you’re right.” He told softly, taking another moment of silence before speaking again.

”But, in theory, the same could be said about you, could it not?” Thorin looked at him, then, and the frown he wore was on of confusion, not of anger, as it had been earlier. Good. He can work with that.

”How do you mean, Hobbit? Explain yourself.” His question was gruff, and Bilbo smiled, turning to fully face the Dwarf, legs tucked under him comfortably as he began to speak.

”It’s just as I said. You say Kíli’s optimism could cost him his life? Well, your pessimism could cost you yours.” He started to explain, Thorin watching intently. His interest only made Bilbo bolder.

”You say Kíli has seen to little of the world, and I say that you’ve seen too much. Not only did you see your people burn once, but again and again, with the battles your father led to reclaim Moria.” Thorin’s face looked stricken, and Bilbo took a breath before he continued. Yavanna help him, make him not go to far with this. Thorin’s hatred was the last thing he wanted.

”And not only did you see you father and grandfather fall to madness, but to Azog, too. Or your grandfather, anyway. It must… the thought that you could fall to that same insanity, it must frighten you a great deal.” He thought he had this right. He’d had Balin explain the whole mess to him some time ago, after Thorin had given them all the story of the Battle of Azanulbizar.

”And the endgame of this quest. A dragon, Thorin. How in Eru’s name do we plan to slay a _dragon_?” Bilbo shook his head.

”The thing is, for the past century or so, you’ve known nothing but pain, and heartache, and despair. But even still, you feel joy, but don’t acknowledge it, just as Kíli won’t acknowledge fear when he feels it.” The Avatar smiled gently.

”Answer me this, when you look at your nephews, how do you feel? Be honest. Beyond worrying for their lives, as I know you do everyone of the company, what do you feel, here?” He put his palm flat over Thorin’s heart, and the Durin sucked in a breath, thankfully actually giving it some thought. It appeared Bilbo’s words had some affect.

”I…” Thorin licked his lips and looked to the side, as if he were imagining them both.

”I feel warmth.” Bilbo’s smile was kind and genuine, and he took his hand from the Dwarf.

”That is love, Thorin. Joy in it’s purest form. Another example— think of your sister. What do you feel when you think of her?” Thorin’s gaze was sharp, but not unkind, when he looked back at the Hobbit.

”How do you know of Dís?” He asked, genuinely surprised.

”Bofur.” The Hobbit laughed softly, while Thorin clicked his tongue.

”What is your point?” Thorin inquired, arms crossed.

”My point is that you have to hold on to that joy you feel when you look on your nephews. It will keep you sane in the troubled times ahead, I’m almost positive. I’m not saying be as wild as Fíli and Kíli both are, just… remember that love you feel for them. It’ll do you good.” Thorin found Bilbo’s smile infectious, and with an almighty sigh, the Dwarf prince relented, letting out a smile smile that very nearly had Bilbo shouting ‘hooray’ to the heavens.

”Alright, then, Bilbo. if you insist.” By the maker, Thorin had the smoothest voice of anybody he’d ever known. Didn’t do well for this silly puppy crush he had.

”So what of you, then? You are a creature of good spirits, usually. What is it you find joy in?” Thorin wondered, and Bilbo hummed, going back to the, up until then, forgotten food.

”My mother. My father. Both of them. I often hear Ma’s voice in my head; advice and all that, you know. Parental and comforting things that I vowed myself I’d never forget after their passing.” It was no less hard to talk about them in the past tense, even after all this time, Bilbo found. He focused on the food to steady himself, until Thorin’s voice broke through his thoughts, the Hobbit looking up in clear surprise at the words spoke.

”Tell me about them.”

—

They left Rivendell far to soon. After only a few minutes on the road, and Bilbo missed the smooth marble and kind Elven faces. Not only that, but Thorin had proceeded without Gandalf, which didn’t sit well with the Hobbit. Not one bit. It wasn’t his place to challenge Thorin’s decision, thought, so he went without complaint. They’d be crossing into the Misty Mountains next, he realized, trying his best to ignore is aching muscles as they trekked along.

—

”Did you master Water-bending?”

”Not sure mastered is the word I’d use, Bofur, but… well. I’m most certainly more confident with it now than I was three days ago.”

”Well that certainly is good! I can’t wait to see you use it. I came by once, to see how you were getting on, but it seemed like you and Thorin were havin’ a serious talk, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

”Oh, it wasn’t so very serious. I was only trying to get him to be not so dark all of the time.”

”Well, whatever you did, it must’ve worked. We’ve been going for half a day, and he hasn’t raised his voice once! I thought for sure he’d skin Kíli alive when the lad very nearly tackled him, tryin’ to go for his brother like he was. What did you two talk about, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

”Nothing much. Just family, and our different cultures. It was really nice, honestly, he being so interesting in learning about Hobbits.”

”Oh, I doubt it’s Hobbits he wanted to learn about.”

”Hm?

”He’s interested in knowing _you_ , obviously. You’re a surprising creature, Bilbo, and nothing your size has ever stood up to Thorin the way you do. That’s why he wants to know you.”

”That’s a bit farfetched.”

”Mm. Not as much as you think, Master Baggins. Not as much as you think.”


End file.
